


Haunted, Metaphorically Speaking

by swiftishere



Series: MSA One-Shots [36]
Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Cave Incident, Pre-Ghost (Mystery Skulls Animated), dont you hate when your nightmares give you foreshadowing for your real actual life, i just think its neat how your dream brain just kinda, smushes all the stuff you're thinking about into a big glob of nonsense, that doesnt resemble any of it, this is super not my usual stuff huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29874483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftishere/pseuds/swiftishere
Summary: Arthur doesn't remember most of his dreams, after the cave incident.The ones hedoesare a mishmash of images and panic, nonsensical and completely useless, and all he can do afterwards is try to flush him from his mind.
Relationships: Arthur & Lance (Mystery Skulls Animated), Arthur & Vivi (Mystery Skulls Animated)
Series: MSA One-Shots [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440190
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Haunted, Metaphorically Speaking

**Author's Note:**

> if my italics get removed from this after triple checking before posting i am going to scream. forever.

After the cave incident, Arthur’s dreams became even more jumbled than they had been before. He was starting to dread sleeping, and the inevitable, oppressive panic that came with waking up afterwards. The one thing he was grateful for was that he didn’t remember most of them. 

_Most_ of them. 

This dream started with darkness. It occupied that strange place between dreaming and awake, where you only _sort of_ saw what was happening, in your mind’s eye. 

Then he saw Lewis, just in front of him. There was still no light source, but his mind produced just enough ambient light to be able to see him more or less clearly. He was turning back to look at him. 

Accompanying his face was an intense feeling of _dread_ , that made it difficult to even breathe. It felt like something was just behind him, breathing down his neck, _waiting_ for– what, he didn't even _know_. It was paralyzing, inescapable. He couldn't even _think_ of _running_ from it.

Lewis started walking forward, and he didn't _want_ to follow him, he desperately wanted to call out and make him _stop_ , because the unwavering sense of doom only got stronger at the thought of moving _deeper_ into wherever they were – but he couldn't make a sound, his throat was closing over, and turning _back_ felt just as impossible. His body moved forward of its own volition, and the helpless _trapped_ feeling just got stronger. There was nothing there was _nothing_ he could _do_.

He saw the monster before Lewis did, and the sight made him feel physically sick, like something was crushing his chest and stuck in his throat. It was _enormous_ , that dark ominous _thing_ lurking at the end of the path. It had no eyes, only _teeth_ , just rows and rows of enormous teeth in a long, wolflike snout, dark and jagged like stalactites. He wanted – he _needed_ to cry out before Lewis got any closer, but he _couldn't_ –

His mind couldn't generate the image of Lewis being attacked. It skipped over it like a corrupted video, pausing and then jumping forward, and then suddenly he was in bloody pieces on the ground. He wanted to scream but he was still being choked, he wasn't even sure how he was still standing because his limbs felt too weak to hold him. And the awful, eyeless, hungry _beast_ , now dripping with red that turned almost black in the dark, turned its attention gradually, with an _achingly_ slow turn, to him. 

The dread felt like it had come to a point, boring into his chest. He stared at that thing, unable to turn or make a sound or even _look away_ , and realized he was about to die.

Then he woke up.

It was less like jolting awake, and more like _realizing_ he was awake. Like suddenly breaching the surface of the water and tasting air. He was granted a momentary reprieve from the joint-locking terror, relief sweeping over him – and then it slammed right back into him, bringing with it the same sick, choked feeling from before. The memory of Lewis lying broken on the ground–

He fought his way out of the sheets and narrowly avoided crashing to the ground, slamming his arm on the dresser instead (oh, that was going to bruise.) He didn't even know where he was going, he just needed _out_ , because he was too hot and too cold and he needed to _move_ something was _coming_.

He stumbled his way to the bathroom, forcing his shaking legs into working. Initially he just wanted to splash some cold water on his face. When he got there he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and retched.

Once his stomach was empty and everything was flushed away, he slumped back against the opposite wall, pressing a shaking hand to his face, and finally properly cried. He tried to be quiet – some buried paranoid impulse said _something will hear you_ – but it was hard because his body wanted to sound hysterical. He bit down on his thumb and curled up over his knees.

It was a nightmare. None of it was real. It was just a stress dream, it didn't _mean_ anything, Lewis _definitely_ hadn't been found torn to pieces and– _stop remembering that picture_ –

After – he wasn't sure how long it was, when every moment felt stretched out and vague – he heard _something_ from the hall. The sound prompted a renewed spike of terror in him, and he scooted back to the far wall as it got closer, trying his best to fight off the mental image of that _monster_ appearing in the doorway and _pouncing_ –

Lance knocked on the doorframe as he looked into the bathroom, already frowning. "Somethin' wrong, kiddo?"

Right. Of course it's Lance, he's the only other person in the house and _monsters aren't real and they definitely don't live in your walls and attic and- shut up, stupid_.

"N- no- nothing, I- I just, I-" he swallowed and took a few unsteady breaths. "Ha- had a- a nightmare."

His expression softened at that. "Oh. Y'need anything?"

"Uh-" What _did_ he need? "Y- uh- I need, need to- c-c-call Vivi." Yes. Right. That was it. ~~Why?~~

"Alright. Where's your phone?"

"It's, uh, it's in my- my room."

It took him too long. It definitely took him too long, right? Something must have happened. Or maybe everything was just drawn out because his shoulder was starting to hurt and he was dizzy and the air didn't feel like _air_ –

Then Lance was back, already dialing Vivi, and in hindsight he realized it had only been about a minute, and it probably only took that long because he'd knocked his phone on the floor and buried it in blankets.

He tried not to panic _quite_ so much when it took her more than one ring to pick up.

When she _did_ , her voice was tinged with urgency and the remnants of sleep. "Arthur- did something happen?"

"No, I- I'm f-fine, I just-" Why was he calling? There was something he needed, something _important_ , but he couldn't put his finger on what his brain was trying to tell him. "V-Vivi, you- you need to- to, to- get out, there's- you're in tr- in- in danger-"

"What? What are you talking about?"

_Right_ , that was it, and now his panic was just mounting again with the need to make her _understand_ and _get out_. "Th- there's something _with you_ , it- it's gonna hurt you, you need to _go_ somewhere else, just- j-just- out of the house, _anywhere_ -"

"Whoa, hey, I'm not at the house. I'm with my parents, remember?"

"Doesn't matter it- it's with you-"

"Okay! I can- come to the shop? Is that okay?"

"Yes, just- _anywhere else_ -"

"Alright, should I bring- mm." She cut off that sentence with a hum that sounded... understanding, maybe? "I'll be there in... just a few minutes."

"Okay."

He couldn't bring himself to hang up until Vivi did it for him, and then he just dropped the phone on the tile and slumped back against the wall again.

* * *

By the time Vivi got there, Arthur had already fallen back asleep on the couch, but Lance didn't object to her staying anyway.

She didn't want to leave. She couldn't shake the nagging thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , the thing he'd been worrying about was whatever attacked him – and however irrational that thought was, her mind still _insisted_ that if there was _any_ chance it was coming back, she _had_ to be there this time. To protect him. Which was irrational in its own right, because she wasn't exactly _armed_ , but she was tired and in no mood to argue with her instincts.

She dragged Arthur back to his bed, and they slept back-to-back, Arthur facing the door and Vivi the window.


End file.
